


Best Breakfast (Or How They Finally Christened The Loft's Kitchen)

by katanaxriot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katanaxriot/pseuds/katanaxriot
Summary: Submission for the 2017 Olicity Valentines day smut-a-thon on Tumblr. Post season 5, Oliver and Felicity are finally trying again. And it all feels very familiar until they decide to finally do something they never got around to earlier.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Yes, I am finally back from the dead and here to bless you all with delicious smut. At least it's mostly smut, there's a bit of fluff in there too...basically my brain couldn't decide which to go with.  
> I want to thank the fabulous ladies on tumblr for putting this together and letting me join in on the fun, I've been having massive writer's block as of late (of the smut variety) so this was a nice exercise for me. And if you squint it's cannon compliant (if the writers allow us happiness anytime soon) which is new for me.  
> My prompt was "hot damn"  
> Enjoy!

_Too hot, hot damn…_

Felicity hums along to the song blaring through the speakers as she mixes the ingredients in the bowl. But she's not distracted, nope. She is following the recipe to the letter and this time she is not ending up with a burnt omelette or a soggy waffle. No sir. This time she is going to make the perfect breakfast and it is going to leave Oliver saying— 

_Fill my cup, put some liquor in it_

"That's right Bruno." Felicity nods to herself, adding just a pinch of nutmeg as she spills the contents of the bowl into the pan she left on the stove, watching as the food sizzles to life. 

She has to admit she's even having a little fun with this. Cooking is supposed to be fun, Oliver has assured her many times. And she's seen the absolute concentration on his face and the singular focus he has when he cooks, much like when he's shooting arrows to pin tennis balls to the wall of the lair, so obviously he gets some sort of pleasure from the act. But she's always been far too concerned with not burning down the kitchen, and in turn the house, to be able to lose herself in the act as he often does. 

But since they are beginning to reconcile and promised to not be held back by previous fears and mistakes, she decided it was time to get over her fear of cooking. Besides, it's hardly fair that Oliver is the only one out of the two of them that can actually feed them, let alone prepare a delicious three course meal worthy to graze the cover of a cookbook. 

She to wants to be able to do so as well...eventually...someday. For right now she's just going to focus on a one course meal and see how that goes. Then she'll be able to graduate to a three course meal, sometime in the distant future...maybe. 

With that in mind she lowers the stove heat to a low simmer and sets on making the whipped cream. She whisks the sugar and whipping cream in a new bowl, moving her hips along to the song as it gets progressively more and more upbeat. 

Soon enough she's chanting along with enthusiasm, the bowl acting as a dance partner for her. 

_Girls hit your hallelujah_

"Whoo!" She calls out, bumping her hip to close a drawer. 

_Cause uptown funk gonna give it to you_

She bobs her head to the beat, whisking faster as the rhythm increases. 

_Cause uptown funk gonna give it to you_

She stomps on the tip of her toes, following the thumping of the drum as the tempo becomes faster. As the song reaches its crescendo, she spins on her toes, throwing her hand up in the air and singing along at the top of her lungs. 

"Don't believe me just watch—ah!" Mid spin, Felicity catches sight of Oliver standing in the middle of the kitchen. His sudden appearance makes her jump, the abrupt stop in her momentum causes the whisk to clatter noisily back into the bowl, sending a chunk of whipped cream flying and landing on her cheek. 

Her heart is still racing as he just stands there looking at her with something akin to amusement coloring his features. 

"Jesus you scared the frak outta me," she tells him, placing her hand over her chest, trying to slow her heart rate, "aren't you supposed to still be on your run?" She accuses. 

He gives her a half shrug. "I ended it early." 

"Well you ruined your surprise." She says, gesturing to the French toast frying on the stove behind her. 

He tilts his head at her. "Are you trying to cook for me?" 

"Not trying," Felicity corrects him lightly, "I am cooking." She picks the whisk back up, continuing to stir the whipped cream. 

He takes a step further into the kitchen, closer to her. 

"Nuh-uh Oliver." She warns him, putting a finger up. "Don't you dare come in here and jinx this for me, I have a good thing going right now. I'm making this kitchen my domain." She waves her hand, motioning to the space around her. 

Oliver ignores her, invading her personal space and smirking slightly as he brings a finger up to her cheek, swiping the cream off her face. "Just doing some quality control, promise." He says lowly, bringing his finger, covered in whipped cream, up to his mouth. 

_Oh._ Felicity's eyes zero in on the single digit as he places it on his tongue and wraps his lips around it. And even though they already 'reconciled' once—last night in fact, and it lasted until the early hours of that morning, leaving her thoroughly satisfied—that action alone makes her stomach clench with desire. 

"Felicity." 

"Hmm?" Her eyes focus back to his face, catching the scrunching of his nose. 

"Did you put sugar in this?" He indicates, with his chin, towards the bowl in her hand. 

"Of course." She turns around, pointing to the bag sitting opened on the edge of the kitchen counter, amidst the egg shells and bars of slowly melting butter. "I put a whole bunch of it." 

"Felicity." 

She turns back to him, just in time to see the oh too familiar look, that's a cross between slight exasperation and complete adoration, light his face. 

"That's baking soda." 

Her brows draw together. "Really?" 

"Mhm," he nods, watching her carefully. 

She feels her face fall and juts out her chin in disappointment. "Well, some kind of genius I am..." 

With her eyes looking down at the goo in the bowl that is a sad excuse for not whipped cream, she can still hear the smile in his voice as he says, "It was a good try though hun." 

"Don't patronize me." She tells him, looking up to meet his eyes. And even with his lips pressed together fighting it, she can make out the smile threatening to take over his face. 

"I'm sorry," he says, sounding sincere, "it's just that you’re pouting." 

"Because I wanted to do something nice for you." She sighs, setting the bowl on the kitchen island he's leaning against. 

"Felicity, just being able to wake up next to you is nice—more than nice. I don't need breakfast for that, you're all I need." 

Her eyes flicker up to his. "Are you trying to be cute to distract me from my colossal screw up?" 

"Depends. Is it working?" He smirks, leaning down towards her. 

"No..." She lies, halfheartedly, turning her face up to meet his. 

"Mm, how about this?" 

And then his lips are on hers and Felicity sighs into the kiss. It's what she's been missing all day. Sure, he kissed her before he left for his jog that morning, but she was still half asleep and utterly spent so it was more of a small peck, if that. 

But this, with his slightly chapped lips slanting across hers, his breath mixing with hers as she opens up her mouth for his tongue, this is so much better. 

Felicity reaches out to tug him closer by the pockets of his hoodie. Oliver smiles against her lips, and she can’t help the responding smile that curves her mouth. 

He pulls back after a minute but doesn't go too far, their foreheads still touching, noses brushing. 

“Do you think I'll ever be able to cook something that isn’t life threatening or poisonous?” She asks quietly, her eyes still closed. 

With Oliver's body pressed up against her, she can feel the chuckle that makes its way through his body. “I really hope not,” he says, moving some hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “I need to have one thing on you.” 

Felicity opens her eyes to find Oliver already gazing down at her, the pure love and reverence that is reflected back to her through his eyes is almost blinding in its intensity. 

She swallows loudly, it takes her a moment to regain her wit. “Just one?” 

His lip twitches at her teasing tone. “Well maybe the dancing too…” 

“Hey!” She punches his chest, and in true Oliver fashion he has the decency to act as if he could actually feel her small fist through all his muscles. “First of all, mister ‘I don’t dance,’ you’re not allowed to tease me about that since I’ve never even seen you cut a rug. And secondly, my moves are legendary.” 

He grins at her, bringing his hands to rest lightly on her hips. “I’m sure they are.” He says, giving her a small peck. 

She hums in response, “You better believe it.” 

“You know this all reminds me a bit of Ivy Town…” he tells her, gesturing to the mess she's made of the kitchen. 

“Oh you mean my whole failed Susie homemaker phase?” She groans, remembering with a slight shudder, her many attempts—and consequential disastrous failures—at providing something for the many potlucks their neighbors had while the rest of the stay at home moms flourished with ease. 

“I was thinking more of the whole, me coming back from my runs to find you in the kitchen, covered in food, trying to cook. And I'd have to swoop in and save the meal...” 

She tilts her head at him. “If memory serves, neither of us got too far in the cooking. We’d always end up tangled in the sheets.” 

“Mm,” he grins at her, “that was my favorite part.” He tells her in a low voice. 

She smiles in turn, biting her lip. “Mine too.” 

And while it's true that when they were living together the opportunity for Felicity to cook for him always existed, the truth is they never had the time. Darhk was an ever present threat, always looming over them, which meant they put in long hours in the Arrow cave trying to stop him. So by the time they got home, exhausted and only being able to catch a couple hours of sleep before they had to go back into the world—her to Palmer Tech and him to his campaign office— the last thing on their mind was cooking. Sure Oliver still made food, delicious food, but they didn't get to take their time with it like they had in Ivy Town. And then she was paralyzed, and in the chaos of trying to figure out how to live her life with this new circumstance thrusted upon her, cooking for Oliver didn't fit into that equation. 

Soon after the truth about William came out, effectively ending all possible lingering thoughts about cooking for her then fiancé. 

So this is almost like breaking new territory for them, it had been awhile since she had tried this. In Ivy Town they just had so much more _time_ , time to lounge around and just talk and explore each other. It was a luxury lost to them the second they returned to Star City. 

But now that Prometheus was in the rearview mirror, things had started to slow down on the vigilante front and things at the Mayor’s office weren't as hectic anymore—allowing him time to go on jogs in the morning again. 

So now seemed as a good of a time as any to try again. 

And as Oliver snakes his hand from her hip to the small of her back, drawing her closer to him, Felicity realizes this attempt is going to end much like her many in the past, and the knowledge sends a thrill through her. 

With her lips mere inches from his, she moves up on the tips of her toes, “What are we going to do about the mess, Mister Mayor?” She asks him playfully, fluttering her eyelashes teasingly. 

She sees his eyes darken, all the lightheartedness from earlier gone as he presses himself into her, letting her feel every hard inch of him. “Screw the mess.” He growls before his lips attack her. 

She gasps in surprise at his abrupt vigor, and he takes advantage of the opening, slipping his tongue into her mouth. 

Felicity moans. The taste of mint from his toothpaste, the bland whipping cream she made, a hint of sweat, and something so uniquely Oliver invades her mouth and she presses herself even closer to him. 

Oliver’s hand slide down to the curve of her ass, kneading the cloth covered flesh and giving the right one a pinch. She bites his bottom lip in retaliation and the next second her feet are off the ground. Her legs instinctively wrap around his hips as he sets her down next to the stove. Felicity balls the fabric of his hoodie in her hands. She needs to get it off of him immediately but can’t seem to tear herself away from where her teeth are clashing against Oliver’s, his tongue licking the roof of her mouth. 

He glides his mouth across her cheek and down her neck, leaving wet open mouth kisses. She pants above him, and stretches her neck, exposing herself to him. He takes full advantage, nipping and laving at the skin. 

It takes her a second but soon Felicity releases the pockets of his hoodie and instead slides her hands up to the zipper, eagerly tugging it down. She gets it halfway undone before Oliver’s mouth traces back to behind her ear, sucking the skin into his mouth. 

She shivers against him, her eyes falling closed. Oliver bites at the skin, lickng the area before drawing it back into his mouth, his fingers digging into her hips. 

Felicity releases a small mewl, her head falling back as he focuses intently on the spot. He released the skin from his mouth, surely leaving a pretty mark behind, and continues his descend down her neck. 

With her eyes still shut, Felicity yanks the zipper down aggressively, feeling the material finally part and she pushes it off his broad shoulders hastily. Oliver lets go of her to shed the garment quickly before placing his hands back on her, sliding his fingers up her thighs and past the hem of her sleep shorts. 

“Bedroom?” She asks, gripping onto his shoulders, now only covered by the thin material of his t-shirt, made only thinner where he mostly sweat through it. 

“Too far.” Comes his breathless reply before reattaching his lips to hers. 

And while they had christened much of the loft while they lived here, they had never quite made it to the kitchen before, oddly enough. But Oliver seemed just as eager by the prospect of breaking new ground and rectifying that mistake as she is. 

His fingers caress the skin of her inner thighs, running his blunt nails just under her shorts. She shivers at the feel, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his lips closer to hers. 

Oliver lets go of her for a moment and Felicity wants to frown at the loss of his fingers drawing patterns on the sensitive skin of her thighs. But then he runs his hands up her sides, taking along with him her grey tank top, until it’s bunched halfway up her chest. He leaves it there, gently running his nails over her newly exposed stomach. Felicity shivers. 

Oliver smooths his hands up her sides, his thumbs grazing just under her breasts. Felicity groans into his mouth, squeezing his hips between her thighs tighter. 

But he just takes his time, the callous pad of his thumb swiping slowly over the skin before briefly running it over her nipple, the small bud hardening instantly under his touch. His lips leave her, moving down her throat, pressing small nips into her skin in his wake. 

Felicity grabs the collar of his shirt from the back, tugging it up, needing to feel his skin against hers. But Oliver doesn’t comply, ignoring her completely as one hand continues the gentle teasing of her breast while the other descends down her stomach. 

Soon she feels his hand working the drawstring of her shorts and a moment later his long fingers dip into the material. Her stomach clenches as he moves past her pubic bone, inching closer to where she needs him. 

She lets out a little gasp, her back arching as he moves swiftly over her clit, barely acknowledging it at all, and slides his fingers through her folds, collecting the juices there. He hasn’t even entered her yet, or completely removed any article of clothing, yet here she is, wet and panting, desperate for him. 

His fingers continue to run over her folds, making her wetter with each past and neglecting her clit altogether. Even the little needy noises she makes in the back of her throat, squirming on the counter, don’t seem to deter him from just absolutely torturing her. 

“Oliver…” She pleads, her voice too high to actually belong to her at this point. 

“Hmm?” He asks casually from his place tracing patterns on her collarbone with his tongue, as if he has no idea what could possibly be frustrating her so. 

“Please…” It’s high pitch and breaks off at the end when he just barely skims past her clit. 

She can feel him smile at the base of her throat, his fingers continuing their lazy passes. “What do you want baby?” 

“You...please… _need_.” And never let it be said that even through half formed thoughts and fragment sentences Felicity couldn’t get her point across. 

“Like this?” He asks, pressing his thumb down on her clit, making her practically jump off the counter. “Or this?” And then he slides one finger into her, slowly. 

“Yes...yes, please…” She’s grasping his t-shirt in her fists with such force she briefly wonders if it’ll tear in her hands. 

But then he’s gliding his finger out before guiding it back in, and all other thoughts leave her head. 

She sighs. Her head falling back further as Oliver slowly and steadily eases a finger in and out of her, his opposite hand caresses her breast teasingly. Felicity pushes her chest out to him and wiggles her hips, trying to get _more_. 

But he’s hell bent on denying her that, instead he draws out the torture, his finger moving unhurried, without a care in the world, his thumb lightly tapping around her clit, hand gently kneading her breast, and his damn tongue passing leisurely over the base of her throat. 

This imbalance of power is making her squirm, even more so than the lack of pressure she’s getting where she needs it. 

Taking a deep breath, Felicity resolves to correct this injustice. She runs her hands down from his collar, where she is clearly going to be unable to get him out of his shirt, down to the front of his sweat pants. 

When she reaches the front of his pants she feels him freeze under her, all his teasing movement coming to an abrupt end. 

“Felicity…” he says lowly, hotly, and she tries not to let that near Green Arrow voice distract her from her task. 

“Yes?” She asks innocently, albeit breathlessly. 

“What do you think you're doing?” He asks as she dips her finger into the band. And although she can't see his face, still buried in her neck, she can tell by the edge in his tone that his jaw is clenched. 

“Well,” she says flippantly, a smile slowly growing on her face, “I figured one of us should get some sort of release, and since it's clearly not going to be _me_ …” 

“Felicity–” 

But she cuts him off with one hand wrapped around his cock. She gives him a small tug and his forehead lands on her shoulder, his nail accidentally scraping against her nipple and she yelps in surprised pleasure. 

Her victory is short lived though, since after two pumps, he pulls his hand away from her chest and snatches hers from out of his pants. 

She frowns down at him, the question forming on the tip of her tongue. 

He looks up at her, his eyes dark and hungry, effectively killing her question as it forms. He places her hand on the counter, curling her fingers around the edge. “Hold on tight.” 

She has a witty response ready, about the circumstances she imagined him saying that under, when suddenly he plunges two fingers into her depths without warning. 

She moans out in surprised delight and clings to him, pulling him by the collar while simultaneously she grips the counter with all her might as he relentlessly sinks his fingers into her. 

Oliver’s other hand quits its teasing as well, his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple, drawing out a ragged breath from her. His mouth descends lower, moving past her clavicle to the swell of her breast. Felicity curls her hand around the back of his neck, holding him tight against her chest as he adds a third finger to his ministrations. 

Her skin feels too hot and she can feel her stomach fluttering with her impending release. 

She claws at his shirt, trying to pull it off his body, needing there too be less clothes separating them. “Off...off…” 

He quickly gets the hint, pulling back slightly and pushing her tank top higher up and over her head, exposing her chest to the cool air of the kitchen. Before she can blink, Oliver quickly sheds his own shirt, letting it fall to the floor to join hers as he brings his hand back to her chest. 

Felicity pulls him flush against her, exploring his newly exposed skin with her greedy hands. She re-familiarized herself with the expanse of his back last night—tracing the patterns his scars make, and once again finding the spots that make him purr. 

Her fingers slide past one near his shoulder blade and she hears his breath catch. It seems to be a particularly sensitive one, so it must be fairly new, only about a week or two old. She passes over the raised flesh again and he curls his fingers within her, making her cry out. 

“Oliver!” She gasps, the obscenely wet noises made as his fingers pump quickly in and out of her fill the kitchen along with her gasps of pleasure and his grunts of concentration. 

She's basically riding his fingers at this point, her ass half in the air as she thrusts down on his hands, her nails digging into his back. 

He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking with just enough force to make it the slightest bit painful, but that only increases her pleasure. He has his thumb drumming over her clit in time to the pistoning of his fingers. 

“I’m gonna… _oh god_ …” She mumbles, grinding down harder on his hand. 

“I know,” He says, letting her breast go with a wet pop, trailing his mouth back up to her neck, “let go.” 

He rubs her clit harder, curling his fingers into her just so… And she explodes, gushing onto his hand and opening her mouth in a silent cry as she goes still above him, only her thighs quivering. 

And through it all Oliver continues the steady pumping of his fingers, working her through her orgasm before she finally slumps back down onto the counter, her fingers no longer digging into his back and now smoothing out the crescent marks she left in her wake. 

Her breathing is still uneven as she opens her eyes, to find Oliver now licking his fingers, a self satisfied smirk on his lips and his eyes still ablaze with hunger. And he’s still wearing his pants, now sporting a rather big tent. 

“‘Don’t need these.” She murmurs, pulling at the elastic. “We’re gonna take care of you now.” 

He grins at her, it all at once makes her heart flutter and her core muscles clench in a way only Oliver can. 

Without a word he scoops her up, laying her gently down on the floor, their discarded tops serve as a sort of pillow for her. She briefly wonders how clean the floor is, but quickly casts aside the thought, far too drunk with desire to really care. 

Felicity brings her knees up so Oliver can draw her shorts down her legs, flicking the offending garment over his shoulder without a care. His eyes rake over her like he’s unwrapping a present and she knows the feeling entirely too well. She pushes herself up and latches her fingers into the band of his sweatpants, pulling down the cotton to release his aching erection. 

She finds herself, once again, thanking whatever deity is responsible for Oliver always choosing to go commando when he runs. 

She can’t help but lick her lips once his pants fall down around his knees. His cock stands tall and to attention, straining forward almost as if trying to reach her. And she can’t deny him that. She moves her face closer until she can wrap her lips around his tip. 

Oliver curses above her as she sucks the head into her mouth, her tongue coming out to press against the slit, gathering the precum collected there. 

She hears him take a ragged breath, getting ready to say something, but before he can, Felicity lowers herself deeper, opening her mouth wider to accommodate as much of his length as possible. 

“ _Fuck_...damnnit.” He growls, his voice low and deep. 

She reaches forward and hold onto his thighs to steady herself as she draws back before taking his length all at once, again. She feels Oliver sigh, but his thighs are rigid beneath her fingers. 

“Felicity.’ He calls out through clenched teeth. 

“Mmm?” Her mouth is full of him when her eyes flicker up to his face. 

She can just imagine the picture she makes when his eyes meet hers. Oliver closes his eyes for a moment, his face contorted in a expression of almost painful pleasure and she can just imagine the internal struggle going on in his head. 

“Honey…” He says carefully, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes slowly, “As much as I want for you to keep doing that, I just really need to be inside you right now.” 

She understands the sentiment completely, so she deliberately pulls her mouth back. But before she releases him all the way, she moves back in, using the very tip of her tongue to trace the thick vein running across the bottom of his shaft. She feels him twitch under her tongue. 

Oliver moves quickly, grabbing her hand and pinning it over her head, his face inches away from hers. 

“Impatient, Mister Mayor?” She whispers into the space between them. 

His eyes darken further if possible, the deep blue almost completely blown out. “If you keep that up, this is going to end before it begins.” His voice a mere grumble from deep within his chest. 

“Promise?” The high from her orgasm is starting to fade and she’s feeling dangerous, enjoying this new kink of his she’s recently discovered. 

“Felicity…” He cuts himself off this time, pressing his lips to her urgently in a hungry kiss. She responds in kind, her head pushing off the shirts to meet him halfway. 

She feels him at her entrance, hot and heavy against her thigh when she pulls away, gasping for air. “I want to be on top.” 

He looks at her for a moment before kissing her roughly in response. She feels him grip her hips and he flips them in one smooth move, never breaking their lips apart. 

She pulls back once she’s bracketed his hips between her thighs, flipping her short hair back and looking down at him with a smile. Slowly, Felicity takes off her glasses, folding them neatly and reaching up to place them next to where the baking soda sits abandoned on the counter. She sees Oliver’s eyes flare at the action, his grasp on her tightening. 

It had the desired effect, so she reaches down to give his straining erection a few languid pumps. She bites her lip, locking eyes with Oliver before she gets up on her knees, placing herself over him, and lowering herself down slowly. 

They both groan out in unison, the feeling absolute bliss. She lets herself sit there for a moment, enjoying the beautiful stretch of his impossibly hard cock. 

Before Oliver can ask her to, Felicity slides up, leaving just the tip in before she eases back down on him. She continues with the pace she’s set, taking time to enjoy how he fills her up to the brink each time. 

Oliver’s jaw is clenched, his eyes focused on where he disappears into her depths, no doubt coming out glistening with her juices each time. It sends a tingle through her spine imagining the visual their meeting bodies make, and the fact that Oliver has the perfect view of it makes it better. 

He moves his hand back up her stomach, massaging the breast he neglected earlier. Felicity moans loudly, her head falling back as she reaches behind her to rest her hand on his bent knee. Her other hand comes up to her hair, pushing it away from her sweaty forehead as she rides her boyfriend with purpose. 

She feels Oliver shift underneath her, pulling his hips back so he can sit up, it causes her to fall further into his lap, allowing him to penetrate her at a different angle. 

Her breath catches and her muscles constrict around him at the sudden change. She opens her eyes and meets Oliver’s. And as much as she enjoys their slow screwing, she can tell based off the look on his face that he needs her to cum again before he does. And she’s more than happy to abide. 

He thrusts up harshly, allowing him to go so much deeper than before. Felicity’s mouth falls open on a gasp, her hand falling to press against his chest to help steady her. Oliver does it again, and again. 

He moves his face closer, taking advantage of her open mouth to press kisses to her bottom lip as she grinds down on him, quickly finding and matching his pace. She runs her hand up to the back of his neck, pulling at the short hairs there as she angles his face, deepening the kiss. His powerful hips never let up, driving into her with an impossible force. 

There’ll probably be bruises tomorrow on her hips from the way he’s gripping onto her, but as his hand wanders down to find her swollen clit, she can’t bring herself to care. 

He rubs her clit mercilessly in tight little circles as he continues his trusts, making her breasts bounce with the effort. 

Not one to be considered a negligent lover—since coming back from the island that is—Oliver quickly disentangles his mouth from hers, moving his face down to seek out her breast, quickly latching onto a nipple and flicking it with his tongue. 

Felicity feels that warmth in the pit of her stomach, her breath coming out in pants, as Oliver takes her to new heights. Three more thrusts and a particularly rough pass of his thumb over her bundle of nerves has Felicity crying out her release, clenching rhythmically and wetly around his hard length. 

She brings her hand down, nails digging into his chest, right over his Bratva tattoo. He brings his hand up too, placing it over hers and laying his fingers in the spaces between hers. Her cries of pleasure are quickly swallowed up as Oliver slants his mouth back over her. Her body trembles over him, giving him everything she has, and through it all Oliver doesn’t let up with his thrusts. 

Somewhere in the back of her pleasure fogged mind, she realizes he’s searching for his own release now. So with the little strength she has left, Felicity starts to bounce on his lap again, constricting her inner walls around him purposefully. 

“Felicity…” He pants against her lips. She can tell he only needs a little more to push him over. 

She draws him closer, pressing their bodies completely flush, her nipple pressing against the back of his hand where it rests over hers. “Oliver…” 

And then she feels it, his thrusts lose their rhythm, becoming sloppy and desperate. “Felicity…!” His grunt is lost in her mouth as he quickly presses their lips together, his cock twitching and emptying itself inside of her. 

He finally pulls his mouth away from hers, their breath ragged as he presses their foreheads together. 

They stay like that for a moment, just quietly slowing down their breathing and basking in the delicious afterglow. 

“Best breakfast I’ve ever had.” Oliver says after a moment. 

With her eyes still closed, Felicity huffs out a small breathy laugh. “That’s what you always say.” She says, reminding him of all her other failed cooking attempts back in Ivy Town that ended much like this, albeit not on the kitchen floor. 

Not a second later the smoke detector goes off. They both startle, looking up to see a small fog of smoke coming from the pan on the stove. They were too caught up in the moment to notice that the french toast Felicity left frying on the stove had eventually started to burn and created a small cloud of smoke that had made its way to the ceiling of the loft, setting off the detector. 

“This might be your best attempt yet.” Oliver smiles, looking down at her. 

Felicity groans, dropping her head to his shoulder. The action causes their pelvises to brush against each other, her sensitive skin fluttering around his slowly hardening length. 

Eventually they took care of the alarm and disentangled from each other long enough to get on with the rest of their day—Oliver to the mayor’s office on an empty stomach and Felicity to her meeting to discuss the startup wearing a scarf that was strangely out of season. Curtis raised an eyebrow but shook his head, keeping from making a comment.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed that :)  
> I do hope to be back soon with new multi chapter stories for you guys. As I mentioned already, I've been having a little trouble on that front but expect some new material for me new soonish  
> Comments are the wind beneath my wings, so let's keep flying, yeah?  
> As always, you can catch me on [Tumblr](http://katanaxqueen.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/katanaqueen_)  
> :)


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